


Ice Queen

by Christina_Potter_09



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Charlize Theron from Snow White is a huge inspiration for this, Dark, Dark!Sansa, F/M, Post Season 8, Queen in the North and not only..., Sansa is evil, She's a badass, Smut, Starklings, The Ice Queen, The White Wolf, all the antis were right, and her cousin fucking her, and she has children sired by wolves, i mean she's bad, jonsanity gift because it was a very catchy idea, pol!sansa, very bad for you kiddos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23885008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christina_Potter_09/pseuds/Christina_Potter_09
Summary: Ice Queen, the people called her. Audiences were being held instead of councils in the castle of Winterfell. No Lord dared defy her, only bowed their heads when it came to her commands, commands that were controversial, dangerous, cruel, but successful at reaching the goal set by her.Sat upon her throne, dressed in a black dress with elaborate layers of leather, clanging around her lean body like armor. Sansa Stark turned her eyes towards the little men approaching her. They were turning desperate, she thought as she laid icy blue eyes upon the head of the group
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 35
Kudos: 176





	Ice Queen

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jonsanity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonsanity/gifts).



> A small break from The Lone Wolf and the Last Dragon as I took upon me to make this for jonsanity, I hope you enjoy it, dear.   
> This was made inspired by Charlize Theron as Queen Ravenna from Snow White and the Huntsman.

_ Ice Queen _

_ For jonsanity _

_ Request: all the antis were right, Sansa is the ULTIMATE ~~badass~~ bad bitch behind it all, Jon is there for Sansa, as tainted but with a backbone. _

People spoke in whispers ever since the end of the Great Council. They spoke in whispers over their fallen Gods who allowed the dragon to lay waste on their land. They spoke in whispers about the crippled King on a wheelchair, instead of the rightful Heir of the Kingdoms on the Iron Throne, exiled, lost, never to be seen again. 

The whispers spoke of civil war and the destruction of the Six Kingdoms. 

There were shouts in the North, in the beginning. 

_ Queen in the North! Queen in the North! Queen in the North! _

At first, they haled for her. Bringing Independence and Freedom on the land; after thousands of years. But soon, the world of man had her cornered over heirs and power, forcing her to marry and breed to bend at the will and council of older men with small minds, too afraid of change and a woman’s rule.

But Sansa Stark was a she-wolf, the Red Wolf as she had been known at first, and she hadn’t yielded. It was when she showed her teeth, snarled and bit off heads, literally, that the shouts quivered in fear, trailing off to whispers before the blood that was spilt upon the virgin snow of Winterfell. 

The whispers turned frightened with every passing moon-turn. The Queen there; a creature of strength and resilience had turned out to be a creature of ruthlessness and legend. 

One after the other, the Lords both in the South and the North turned against each other, eliminated, depowered, in discord spread among them beyond reconciliation. While she turned more powerful as she stepped on the ashes of broken alliances and bodies. The poisonous truth about the Riverlands was spread first, the constant dishonor, the neglectance from King’s Landing. Soon, the area never recognized as a kingdom was rebelling, enforced by the North and the Queen’s “will for justice”, until it became part of the North. Edmure Tuly was still remembered for sitting his ass down after the Queen’s command during the Great Council. Later on kneeling for her for a stronger, greater North at her court. 

The Vale followed, its knights still loyal to Sansa Stark. Answering her call for fortification and expanse, and she had rewarded them, her Queensguard, her personal army. Whispers had it Robin Arryn had screamed at her against her plan to snatch the Vale from him. How unfortunate for her sweet cousin to die at such a young age, the moondoor had been shielded ever since… Whispers had it, at night he was still heard screeching as he slipped and fell in the void.

At night, when the spies seemed gone, the whispers grew however. Speaking of all this not being a game Sansa Stark hadn’t played before. They said all this had been planned by her, years ago, while she was still the Lady of Winterfell. She had done all those things before. Trained by other monsters, she had hidden her monstrous nature long enough. 

They weren’t sure when she became who she was, there had been so many things she had done, and so many she had credit for, the whispers were confused and confusing. She had been a little bird when she sent those letters to Robb Stark, jeopardising the Northern Cause. A girl when she declared her own father a traitor to beg for his life and her own. She had been a girl when she poisoned Joffrey Baratheon. A young bastard when she lay with Littlefinger, conspired with him behind Jon Snow’s back to bring the Knights of the Vale to the North to fight for her and reclaim her home. A young lady when she fed her second husband to his own dogs while she watched on. She had demanded the destruction of Karstarks and Umbers after the Battle of the Bastards, denied by her half-brother. Whispers had it she had been happy the Long Night annihilated both houses later on. 

‘ _ Winterfell is yours, your Grace.’  _

She had stared down the dragon, defied him while everyone knelt. Drove the Dragon Queen to the brink of madness, allowing her to fall over the edge by the stupidity Sansa Stark had detected from the beginning. Spreading unrest against the dragon across the North, showing the example of not bending. Challenging the Targaryen into staying for the troops, chasing her to leave the soonest for the Great War. Betraying her once thought brother, exposing what she had vowed to keep a secret. 

Powerful like Cersei Lannister, seductive like Margery Tyrell, with a fiery temper from her Tuly blood, a killer like her little sister Arya. Torturing the ones deserving it, like her second husband whose name had been forbidden by command of the Queen. Plotting against anyone who wasn’t well... her, like late Lord Baelish. Rulling with an ironfist like Daenerys Targaryen who had been right, she wasn’t the girl she used to be. Men of her family didn’t do well in the capital and she had survived it and thrived in the North. All of them had moulded her into what she had become and with traits from her enemies, Sansa Stark had become unstoppable. 

Stupid, whore, murderer, bastard, traitor, schemmer, dishonored, difiled, mad, evil. The whispers died down as eyes fell upon the freezing walls of Winterfell. 

The whispers spoke of her children being sired by wolves. A white beast always with the family, guarding her firstborn at her command, its red eyes following every move and stir when her son wasn’t by his mother’s side. There were no arguments about the parentage of Prince Robb and Princess Catelyn. No, enough heads had rolled over the parentage of princes across the world. 

The North was expanding for the first time in its history, earning areas that could feed the people, empower a rule that was impossible to take down, no matter how cruel or ruthless the Queen became to protect her reign, children and kingdom. 

A world of man bent by a woman who kicked and screamed and slashed her way through that very world. 

She wasn’t fond of songs anymore, or in need of people loving her. A tapestry covered the Great Keep’s windows, showing her and the firstborn prince by her side, the White Wolf on her other side, glaring down at the occupants of the Keep. 

Ice Queen, the people called her. Audiences were being held instead of councils in the castle of Winterfell. No Lord dared defy her, only bowed their heads when it came to her commands, commands that were controversial, dangerous, cruel, but successful at reaching the goal set by her.

Sat upon her throne, dressed in a black dress with elaborate layers of leather, clanging around her lean body like armor. Sansa Stark turned her eyes towards the little men approaching her. They were turning desperate, she thought as she laid icy blue eyes upon the head of the group. 

The Southern delegation entered the Great Keep with eyes set downcast and heads bowed in respect, and fear.

‘Your Grace.’ Tyrion Lannister spoke the words in the same fear she had detected once stemming from him for Daenerys Targaryen. Her head inclined for him to speak. The braids of her fiery hair keeping the Northern crown secured upon her head. ‘We are only happy to see you healthy and prosperous.’ Tyrion spoke, the Great Keep’s limited candlelight made him look smaller than he really was in her eyes. 

‘I’m sure you are, my Lord,’ she mocked openly. So much for the threats of these very men against her when she took the Riverlands and the Vale. She had defended instead of advancing further, having learnt better from Robb Stark and Daenerys Targayen. She allowed the rest of the kingdoms to drown in disarray, starve without two major areas among the Six Kingdoms. 

She had been smarter than her father, brother and cousin. She had been the Queen her son needed to give him an established reign one day. 

‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’ she added when no one dared speak against her observation. Tyrion made a step further, coaxing a raised eyebrow from the Queen along her icy stare. 

‘Apart from the sincere wishes for Prince Robb’s upcoming name day…’ Tyrion started and cleared his throat when Sansa gestured impatiently for him to cut to the chase. ‘We’re here to ask for your support in the upcoming Great Council. Since the elected King coming from it will be your correspondent and we truly hope that-’ Tyrion’s well rehearsed words died down in his throat at Sansa’s burst of laughter, dark, deep and mocking as she threw her head back, the ivory column of her neck scarred by her past abusers. She stood from her throne, her heavy dress’ skirt waving around her as she set her eyes upon the people before her. 

‘And why would I do that? My family from my mother’s side reached for me, asked me to annex their kingdoms with mine in their effort to survive your stupid council’s decision… just like I did for the North…’ Sansa pointed out. ‘I have made my proposition clear, years ago, the Kingdoms should either be separate realms or ruled by someone worthy. And you want to have another council? This is your answer to your banes?’ Sansa asked as she focused on Tyrion, the rest of his councilors remaining silent. 

‘Regarding your proposition...Southerners would never accept a boy king… not again. As for the council, it’s the only way for the many to speak for themselves.’ Tyrion tried but Sansa this time scoffed, her patience running thin. 

‘The Southerners accepted Bran and Tommen and Joffrey… all because they are ruled by halfmen and idiots.’ Sansa spat as she remained rigid before Tyrion. As for my proposition... declare me Queen Mother in your next  _ democratic _ Council with your oligarchs and when Catelyn is old enough, she can be Queen of the Five Kingdoms while my son rules over the North.’ Sansa declared what she had proposed the last time Tyrion was begging her while she was taking over lands that belonged to Bran. 

‘My Queen…’ Tyrion struggled and Sansa chuckled, her eyes falling upon the tapestry on the wall. 

‘Whoever you choose to rule after a cripple; will have the same fate with your kings and queens before him. Maybe elect yourself, my Lord. You haven’t tried an imp; for all your effort, it might be just the thing…’ Sansa added, challenging Tyrion to say a word, he didn’t, to her immense disappointment. His actions as Daenerys’ hand had proved to her his wit had been clouded by whatever fogged his mind, the lost Dragon’s cunt or too much wine. She didn’t care, she had only hoped for an intelligent enough conversation. She was still looking at the dwarf when she noticed his eyes glancing at something at the door behind her, pulling at his attention. She turned and followed his gaze to find the man that held half of what remained of her heart. 

‘Mother?’ raven black hair, dark eyes, pale skin. People said Robb looked like Rickard Stark, Sansa knew better. 

‘My dearest.’ Sansa acknowledged, offering a hand adorned with black onyxes around the wrist and rings around the fingers. Robb approached after the allowance, looking down at Tyrion as well as he stood by his mother’s side. The great White Wolf waiting close by, following Robb. 

Robb Stark was solemn, reminding Tyrion of another young man once living in that castle, he would never dare speak of the resemblance, of the truth.

As if the Queen read his mind, her hand tightened around her son’s shoulder, bringing him closer, the wolf behind her growling in annoyance. 

‘Think of my words, you still have time, Lord Tyrion.’ she finished the audience before anyone could utter another word, pivoting her son as they moved out of the chamber. Exhales of relief echoing around it from the Southern delegation. 

Sansa and young Robb moved through the corridor taking them from the Great Hall to the chambers of the castle, they moved in silence, Ghost’s heavy breathing behind them as he trotted at their tail. Robb halted when they reached his chambers, causing his mother to stop and look down at him, the icy demeanor melting for her only son. 

‘Mother, can I ask you something?’ Robb wondered, causing Sansa to fully turn and face him, eyes soft only for him. 

‘You can ask me anything,’ her voice was calm, encouraging. ’But, tomorrow, for now I need to rest and you need to go back to your lessons with Maester Wolkan.’ she added softly. She knew Robb had heard her and Jon’s conversation last night, after her cousin’s return to Winterfell for the Spring. ‘Is that alright, my love?’ she asked out of courtesy but her tone was more commanding, showing Robb how things would play out. The boy nodded, still so young and innocent, obeying his mother and Queen. ‘I’ll tell you what, form your questions in your sharp mind, make sure you want the answers, and I will answer everything you wish to know.’ she added. Honesty, love, Cersei Lannister had been right. She loved no one else but her children. ‘And please, make sure Catelyn is protected by the monsters under her bed, will you for me?’ she asked this time with a smile she so rarely bestowed people with. Robb glanced up at her with a grin. 

‘Uncle Jon already looked under her bed.’ Robb added and Sansa chuckled lightly. 

‘Of course he did,’ she mused before she could pivot her boy towards the door of the chambers that once belonged to her eldest brother. ‘Be good for Master Wolkan, listen to what he says and ask whatever makes you wonder,’ She instructed and her son nodded, taking her hand in his, the invitation clear for her to bend slightly and kiss her boy’s forehead, his wild curls tickling her nose. ‘I adore you and Catelyn, never forget that.’ she whispered against her son’s skin as the boy smiled. 

‘We love you, Mother,’ the boy replied with a smile reserved but honest. He moved to his chambers with Ghost at his wake, leaving Sansa to follow the rest of the corridor that led to her own chambers. 

The moment she was closing the door of her chambers, arms wrapped around her, hands roaming over her body, lips and teeth at the back of her neck, his hot breath against her skin. She took off her crown, letting it on the closest surface, the clunking sound had her closing her eyes as Jon’s hands moved to cup between her legs, desperate for her, even over the heavy fabrics. 

‘Bed,’ the gasp had him chuckling darkly over the effect he had on the Ice Queen. He led her towards her bed, where he pulled harshly at laces and cords, freeing her from the armor-like dress. It fell heavily on the floor as he unlayered her body while he stood only in his shirt. 

Sansa’s hands clawed at his shoulders, her lips slotting with his in a hungry kiss. She broke it when he bit at her lower lip, torturing the skin there. 

‘I want another child,’ she whispered furiously, making him smirk and nod. ‘But tomorrow, you explain to your son… He’s ready,’ Sansa added, Jon halted and looked at her for a moment, nodding his head. 

‘Very well,’ he replied, both knowing this day was coming, his hands snaked at her hips, his fingers tightening there. ‘Now turn and bend over,’ he commanded her, fully knowing she was obedient only to him. He covered her body as she moved on all fours, his hands tearing at the shift she was still in, causing her to whimper. He smirked as one hand moved between her legs, within her smallclothes, finding her slick for him. He groaned her name as his other hand steadied his body next to hers. 

‘My beautiful cousin,’ he growled in her ear, making her moan, knowing what she liked. ‘My wife,’ he added and Sansa this time nodded, backing her hips to his hand, grinding her body against him, trapped between his skillful fingers and the hardness of his cock that pressed against her lower back. 

‘Patience is not one of my virtues…’ she wouldn’t plead or beg, she never did. He grinned, a wolfish sound escaping his lips as he pulled down her smallclothes, then his own, plunging inside her, causing Sansa to hiss and throw her head back in pleasure. His hand moving around her throat, squeezing enough to make her gasp but not to choke her. He would never corner or intimidate her. She moaned his name, loud enough for people to hear. They would not dare do a thing, the Queen knew, so she moaned and screamed as her cousin took her roughly on their bed. Howling her name as they peaked together, bodies coated with sweat against each other, her own hand finishing the job for herself at the same time Jon spilled inside her. They collapsed together on the bed, in a mess of limbs and flushed skin, heaving chests and hands clutching at the sheets for support. 

Sansa turned and looked at Jon whose eyes were already upon her, he gave her the smallest of smiles. She sighed and nodded, knowing what he craved the most, apart from her. 

‘Go put them to bed, I’m sure they’ll like it.’ Sansa offered. After every return of his, they needed some days to adjust, she at his presence within the walls, he at her constant change, the lack of freedom she represented for the last years. 

‘I will…’ he promised, hoping his children were indeed comfortable around him. Last time he had seen Catelyn, she was barely reading from a book, now she was yielding a quill and wrote words in as beautiful letters as her mother. ‘But tell me first, what happened with Tyrion?’ he asked and Sansa sighed, looking up at the ceiling. 

‘His party will be attacked at the Twins, where the Starks will send their regards… I’m done playing games with halfmen and idiots.’ Sansa’s anger sparked the frown upon her face. Jon only nodded, having learnt better not to try and pacify people anymore. He wasn’t there for that after all and he knew better, she calmed on her own after a few moments, evaluating the time they had together. She turned and looked at him, obviously appreciating the lack of advice from his part. ‘Go to your son and daughter, put them to sleep and then come back here and put another child in my belly. Robb will rule the North, Catelyn in the South, but I will need them to have Hands they can trust.’ Sansa commanded softly and Jon smiled and nodded his head, reaching and stealing a kiss from the lips they could drip commands like poison. 

‘As you command, my Queen,’ her eyes narrowed as he stole another kiss. She hated the proclamation, knowing it had been used from him for the Dragon Queen in the past. It aggravated her and he couldn’t wait for her punishment upon him for it. 

‘Oh just get the fuck out of here,’ she spat angrily, yet she fought to keep the smirk from her face. They had betrayed each other beyond repair, so they had just decided to leave it all behind, unhealed, unfixed, broken, they found reason only in the present, and that present tasted of sex and comfort and their children’s love. 

‘You want a boy or a girl?’ he asked, his voice gruff, familiar. 

‘Girls, Stark girls tend to be smarter than the boys of the family,’ Sansa replied, hoping for her words to cut. He chuckled, nodding as he stood up and got dressed. 

‘It’s a good thing I’m not a Stark then, Targaryen men tend to live longer than Stark men,’ he was avoiding the cup she gripped from her nightstand and threw at him, missing him, the cup hitting the wall with noise, causing him to laugh. 

‘You are to me! Now get out!’ she shouted as he closed the door without a glance at her. She sighed and fell back on the pillows of her bed. 

She hated him, she loved him. 

Damn, she loved him.    
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all liked it, thanks for reading! Cheers!   
> (if someone has more prompts ideas, let me know here or in tumblr, i'm there under the same name as here)


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